Page 13 of Power Forward

“Yeah, kinda. Don’t get me wrong, I love Alex. I think he’s so awesome, and I’m so happy he’s my bro-in-law, but…” He worries his bottom lip, then makes a frustrated noise. “Ugh, I feel like such a dick for thinking this, but I feel like I’ve been replaced in Blaine’s life. And I know that’s not the case, but the irrational part of my brain doesn’t want to get on board.”

“I don’t think you’re an asshole for feeling like that. You two have a unique relationship, something only other twins can truly understand. Maybe it’ll be easier once you meet someone yourself?”

A pensive look crosses his face. “Have you ever had that? Where you have the need to be with them all the time, even if it’s over the phone?”

Hayden instantly comes to mind. Something that’s happened a lot over the last three months. We were inseparable during our relationship. We spent every moment possible together, whether it be on the road, in the confines of our home, or even in the locker room. We would play together, train together, and eat together. At night, we would sneak into each other’s hotel room on the road, and I pretty much lived at Hayden’s apartment in Seaport until the day I was shipped off to LA.

A trickle of annoyance claws up my throat, making my skin heat. It’s like he’s planted his handsome ass back into my mind since the wedding, and I’ve been unable to thinkabout anything else but him. Along with all the unanswered questions I have.

“Yeah, a long time ago. It didn’t last, though,” I say.

We finish our loop of the park, then head back to the hotel. The fresh air and Elliot’s company have helped clear my mind, and hopefully, I’ve done the same for him. He’s a good guy, and I hate knowing he’s feeling dejected.

“Hey, Jackson?” Elliot calls out as I reach the door to my room. “I know it’s easy for me to say, but you shouldn’t feel guilty. You’re an awesome dad, and you’ve got two awesome kids who love the hell out of you. You should give yourself some grace and stop holding yourself to this made-up standard.” He smiles. “You’re doing awesome, okay?”

“Thanks, El. I appreciate it.” I smile back. “And I’m here if you need me, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

Once I’m back in my room, I set an alarm and strip down to my boxer briefs. My eyes are heavy by the time I slip under the covers, and like every time I’m in Boston, I fall asleep with the thought of Hayden on my mind.

Chapter Six

Hayden

One of the perks of being a retired hockey player turned sports agent is I can get free tickets to pretty much any game. NHL. NFL. MLB. NBA. You name a league, I’ll have a contact. All I have to do is make a few calls, and within the hour, I’ve got a choice of seats to pick from.

Tonight, I’m watching the Chicago Thunder face Boston from the GM’s suite. While I didn’t have a smooth transition into retirement with minimal support from the organization, I didn’t leave on bad terms. I held no shame when I dropped Boston’s GM a call two weeks ago and asked if he would be able to spring a ticket my way for tonight’s game. And I wasn’t going to say no when he offered up his suite. There’s always a fully stocked bar and unlimited food, and I make sure he repays for the tough years by drinking his expensive top-shelf whiskey.

I also have a perfect, uninterrupted view of the ice where the Thunder are currently up by one goal twelve minutes into the first period.

Did I need to be in Boston tonight? No. But this is all part of the master plan I’ve been working on over the last couple of months.

I knew they would be staying overnight before heading to Washington tomorrow, and what better place to invite Jackson for a morning coffee than in the city where we fell in love.

Corny? Perhaps. But I’m confident he won’t be able to resist when I mention Rafe’s Coffee House. It used to be our favorite place to go, and I remember how much he missed their hazelnut lattes when he got traded because he would tell me every day.

Until you ended it all.

I tell the voice in my head to fuck off because we’re not going down that road. Not today. This is my chance to make things right, and I won’t let that negative voice jeopardize my plan.

Sipping on a glass of whiskey, I watch Jackson skate smoothly across the ice. I loved playing on the same line as him. We were always so in tune with one another, silently communicating through our eyes, and we could connect passes without looking. I knew where he was on the ice at all times, and him with me. We were unstoppable, and nine times out of ten, if either one of us scored a goal, the other’s name would be listed with the assist.

Our connection was magical, both on and off the ice. But ultimately, it was my own fear that severed that connection. It’s kinda terrifying when you meet someone like that. Especially when it’s someone you can’t be with, like a teammate. The fear that rooted deep inside of me when hereceived the news of a trade took over and my mind began to spiral.

What if he found someone else? What if he realized how much I was head over fucking heels in love with him and decided I was too much? What if he realized he didn’t really love me and decided to end it? What if the distance became too much?

I guess my anxieties started long before my injury because it was when Jackson had to leave that the voices started to take control in my mind. Those intrusive thoughts became suffocating, and the voices convinced me that I was the one who had to end things first because then I was in control. He couldn’t break my heart if I broke his first.

I was twenty-six and immature. But even putting my actions down to immaturity doesn’t make what I did right.

Boston fails to even the score by the end of the first period, and second goes scoreless for both teams. By the time the third period ticks down, the heat is on. Boston are all over the Thunder’s forwards and trying to get under their skin. Blaine gets a penalty for tripping Mäkinen, one of Boston’s defensemen, and argues his way to the box. He must say something out of frustration because the ref holds his hands up, forming a T.

Unsportsmanlike conduct.

“Fuck’s sake, Blaine. Keep your head in the game,” I murmur, resting my chin on my steepled fingers.

The next four minutes are like watching a disaster movie. Mäkinen capitalizes on a failed pass from Peyton, sending the puck over Elliot’s glove and into the back of the net. Jackson’s head drops back in defeat, and I can justimagine him rolling his eyes in annoyance. My lips tip in a small smile at the thought.

The final two minutes of Blaine’s penalty is chaotic. Kendrick scores when Boston gets a hooking penalty, giving the Thunder a 2-1 lead, but then Mitch Henry takes a high stick to the chin that goes uncalled. Peyton drops his gloves at the first opportunity, grabbing the offending player by the front of his jersey, and lands an uppercut. The arena goes wild as the two fight it out while Mitch skates to the bench to get patched up. When the officials finally break them apart, Peyton makes his way to the penalty box, where Blaine gives him a fist bump and slaps his back. Boston evens the score once again, getting the puck past Elliot to make it two all.

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